Drunk, Platonic, and as Crisp as Danny's Water
by Younger Dr. Grey
Summary: Rico talks a lot on a normal day, so imagine how much he talks on his drunken walk home with Jo. Rico/Jo, humorously one-sided. Post-1x08.


"I shouldn't have done that," Rico says about twenty minutes into his walk home. He wobbles a bit in his step, which he doubts is actually the alcohol's fault. There's cracks on the sidewalk, and he doesn't really like stepping on them much. His mom's back has been hurting. He can't be too careful. Or careful at all, since he's not careful enough not to get drunk at the first real high school party he's ever gone to. God, why did he drink so much?

From beside him, Jo chuckles. She sounds really nice when she laughs. Even the little one where she's kind of mocking him are endearing when he remembers that it's basically like they have their own joke. The girls in the movies always laugh at the guy they like. Only Jo doesn't laugh like the girls in the movies around him. Because she doesn't like him. She doesn't want to mate with him, or go on a date, or swing, or babysit him when he's drunk. She should be with Danny. She wants to be with Danny. He never should've drunk so much. He's thought that already, hasn't he? Has he said it?

He says it. "I shouldn't have drunk so much." Maybe he has already said it. Maybe that's why she lifts up her eyebrows so high it's like they're gonna fall off her face. That'd hurt, and it'd be all his fault for hurting her for drinking so much. He almost apologizes, but instead he says, "I can't be a good friend if I'm drunk."

She bumps her shoulder into his. It's quick, familiar, platonic. Everything's platonic. He hates the word platonic. It sounds like it has to do with planets, not with forever standing on the outside looking in on the most perfect girl in the whole world for him who would rather date a murderer than him.

What does that say about him? He's pathetic. He has to be pathetic. That's why she doesn't want to be with him. He should've let her stay with Danny.

"You're a great friend, Rico," Jo says.

He kind of laughs, but it's kind of a sob and he almost feels like he's going to choke into it and fall apart on the sidewalk with too many cracks in it. "That's just it, isn't it? I'm a great friend. A friend. Always a friend, never the more-than-a-friend." Because girls like bad boys, and the one time he did anything even remotely bad is this, or maybe the time when he stole an otter pop from his babysitter's freezer but that doesn't even really count because it was his otter pop for dessert and he just ate it early.

Now, he wants an otter pop. And Jo to like him.

"Aww," she coos, wrapping her arm around his shoulders like a sister would wrap her arm around a brother. He's her Jo and she's his Danny. This is sad. He doesn't like this. He shrugs her off, but that makes him lose his balance, and she grabs onto his arm like a kid. He's a kid to her. "You get lonely when you're drunk."

"I'm always lonely. No, not lonely. I want more, you know?"

"I know." They keep walking. He knows Jo knows, but she doesn't know how much she should know about him. She doesn't even notice him. She keeps talking. "I thought I had more, or a chance for more at least. But Danny doesn't like me, and Tyler's a creep."

They're both creeps. Rico's not a creep. He's sweet and dependable and loyal. That makes him a dog. Aren't dogs bad? He doesn't think girls like dogs.

"There's more guys than them."

She laughs. "Where?"

Rico looks down at himself. He swallows thickly. "I'm a guy." He stops walking. Jo still has a hand on his arm. Did he forget that? Whatever. She stops too and looks back. He repeats himself, "I'm a guy."

She makes that aww face again. "You're my best friend."

His face drops. "Right." He knows that. He's her best friend not her boyfriend, not anyone but the guy who waits for her to like him one day. Will she ever? He's pathetic for waiting for her. He's so, so stupid.

She nods. "Right." She tries tugging him forward, and he yanks his arm away from her. It's too much. He stumbles and she reaches out to help, but he swats at her hands. No.

"I can stand up, Jo! I'm not that drunk."

"Rico—"

He can do more than stand up. He can move on from her. If she's never going to love him, then he can stop loving her. He'll find a way to stop it. But first, "Stop," he says to her, standing steady and staring with what he hopes aren't tears in his eyes, "Stop treating me like a kid."

Jo looks confused. "I'm being a good friend," she says.

"I don't want you to be my friend!" No, that sounds wrong. Mean. He can't be mean to Jo. Never to Jo. He pulls at his hair. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that." He wants her to be more than his friend. Has he said that? He means that. He's sorry.

Jo wraps her arms around herself. "Let's just get you home."

He nods. Maybe he won't talk to her anymore. Not for the rest of the night. Not until he's himself again and he can handle being around her. Or maybe he won't talk to her ever, and they'll drift apart and stop being friends. Or would that hurt more?

It'd probably hurt more. He starts walking first. Jo trails a bit behind him, arms still around herself because she probably hates him now. He messed everything up, didn't he?

"I should not have done that."


End file.
